Happy Holidays, Squad Delta!
by Illyria Lives
Summary: Squad Delta is having their own special brand of problems for the holiday season. Jetpack can't stand Christmas, Rookie needs to change him, Jezzie needs to find the perfect gift, and Memory's... well, Memory. Rated for drinking reference.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello out there! This is Illyria Lives, signing in. So, originally this was going to be a one-shot, but I rambled enough to fill up 25 pages (symbolic. I didn't even notice before now). SO! Now it's a multi-chapter fic. SWEET HYPOCRISY THIS TOOK A LOT OUT OF ME. I'm tired. I'm going to update this once a day, until christmas. So... six chapters. AND IT'S HALF AS LONG AS SECRET AGENTS WANTED SO FAR. That's my way of saying DANG, THIS IS ONE FAT FICLET!**

**... why can't I be normal? I don't even know. Whatever. I'm done. Just read.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Club Penguin, Rookie, G, or Jetpack Guy. I do, however, own Jezzie and Memory. So... HANDS OFF! Geez, I'm tired. Sorry for all the caps button pressing.**

* * *

December 23. Club Penguin was misted by frost, and blanketed by the average snowfall. Cheery Christmas lights twinkled and glowed along houses and stores. Islanders walked down the cold streets decked in wintertime wardrobes, singing merrily. The Town is getting ready for the annual Christmas party, to take place on Christmas Eve, notorious for its night-long dances, where friends would meet and exchange gifts. Children could have their pictures taken with a jolly Islander dressed as Santa, and older Islanders could drink egg nog and find boyfriends and girlfriends beneath the twenty-two separate sprigs of mistletoe. The worst kept secret was that all PSA agents attended this party, the only time of the year that they could all congregate outside of the HQ.

It was this afternoon before this party that you could find Jezebel Swan, PSA agent in the Gift Shop with her squad's rookie, Rookie.

"How about this?" Jezzie held up a horribly cheery Christmas sweater for Rookie to look at. The short boy didn't even glance away from his PSA handbook before answering in a sharp negative. Jezzie threw the sweater at him, and he grappled with it for a few muffled moments before dropping off of his seat and wriggling around on the ground.

His feathery brown head poked out of one of the sleeves. "What was that for?"

"For not helping me make a decision!" she shouted, and wrestled another sweater from the rack to wave in his direction. "Is it this one?"

"Nope." He flinched, and she groaned, resting her head in her hand. This was an impossible task.

"_I _think that you're just… putting a little too much thought into it." Rookie said helpfully from his spot on the floor. "When you look at a gift for someone, you're supposed to _feel _it… like, in your large intestine or something."

Jezzie gave him a Scrooge of a look.

He managed to twist out of his knitted prison, and she collapsed beside him. "According to the PSA handbook, I should know my partner inside and out, and yet I can't even pick out a simple gift!" she threw her arms in the arm and despaired.

Rookie scratched the back of his head, a sure sign that he was about to beg for something. "So, speaking of gifts…"

"I'm not telling you what I got you." Jezzie sighed, and stood. Rookie followed suit quickly.

"Aw, come on, give me another hint." He begged as they left the Gift Shop. "Pretty pretty please!"

"No."

"Why not?" he whined and Jezzie shot a look over her shoulder that shut him up. They were now passing the Coffee Shop, where they saw a tall and gangly blonde man in a blue team jersey talking up the barista, who, after a few moments of speech, slapped him and ordered him onto the street.

PSA Agent Memory, once out the front door, quickly flagged them down. "Jezzie! Hey, Jezzie! Wait up!"

"As much as I love your disdain for feminism, I really don't have the time right now. I'm busy." She said dryly, and he waved it away, walking quickly to keep up with her.

"Right, busy. This will just take a second." He pulled out a yellow bundle of measuring tape and unraveled it. "I just need to know your height."

Jezzie stopped walking, as did Rookie. She gave her PSA partner a strange look. "My…" she started to repeat, before massaging her temples. "You know, I don't want to know. Just get it over with."

Memory smiled happily and held the tape up to Jezzie's blonde head, letting the rest fall to the ground. "Rookie, if you would be so kind." Memory nodded to the fallen tape, and the young boy ducked down to read Jezzie's height.

"Five foot… seven." He said, and Memory visibly deflated.

"Too tall." he muttered and rerolled the tape, tucking it safely away in his pocket. "Well, that is one down…" he looked over his shoulder, at the crowd of women emerging from the pizza parlor. "About a million to go." He shook his head and muttered to himself in French. He smiled helplessly at Jezzie as he followed them to the Lighthouse.

"So… you're not going to ask what I am doing?"

"Nope." Jezzie said. "Busy, remember?"

"Well, too bad, because you should know why I am in such a hurry to learn the height of every woman on the Island…"

* * *

It was almost exactly four years ago. The Christmas party was in full swing. A younger Memory was all decked out in a Santa costume, listening to his iPod through one earbud, while the other hung to his waist. He had a mug full of egg nog in one hand, and was singing the 12 Days of Christmas at the top of his lungs. He didn't get past seven though, before a tiny pixie of a girl in a glowing Christmas tree costume walked past him. His blue eyes were riveted on her for the rest of the party, as she danced beside her friends; a beautiful fairy slipping elegantly along the strands of music… it took him three hours and four more mugs of egg nog before he had the courage to approach her. He tapped her shoulder and had an introduction ready on his tongue before someone jostled him, and he spilled his drink down her costume.

"Please, excuse me, I am so sorry…" he stuttered, his French accent growing more pronounced as his face flushed almost as red as his suit. The girl only giggled and shook her head, shining brown eyes alighting on the ceiling above them. It took the twitter patted young man a few moments before getting the hint, looking up to see a sprig of mistletoe bound by a red ribbon taped to the ceiling.

He gulped and look back down, only to close his eyes as her lips met his.

Fireworks ignited in his brain, and his ears were deafened by a Hallelujah chorus singing. Electricity carried through his veins, travelled across his eyes, and took a hold of his heart in an iron grip. Evergreen pine-covered arms were wrapped around his shoulders, and he could feel the heat from strings of light as he nervously put his arms around her.

He opened his eyes a fraction of a second after her lips left his mouth, and she was gone.

He was left standing there beneath the mistletoe with an empty mug and a glowing heart. Deep down, Memory knew that it was love.

* * *

"… I never knew her name." Memory ended his story wistfully, eyes affixed to the empty horizon, lost in his memories. Rookie and Jezzie shared a look.

At the same time, they burst into laughter.

Memory looked back and forth between them with a confused look on his face. "I do not get what is so funny." He stated simply.

"You actually sounded human there for a second." Jezzie giggled. "To think that all this time you had a true love." he frowned as she fluttered her eyelashes and pouted. Rookie, by this point in the conversation, was rolling on the ground in stitches.

"You are just jealous." Memory sniffed, obviously hurt. "When I finally find her, I will propose marriage and leave you in the dust." He turned his back on her and walked stiffly back towards the Coffee Shop.

"Aw, come on." Jezzie grabbed his arm and held him in place. "You just can't pour that much emotional depth into a two-minute story like that and not expect anyone in earshot to laugh at you."

Memory sighed and allowed her to lead him to the Lighthouse. "Now, I need your help." She told him, and he raised an eyebrow.

"The great Jezebel Swan asking for _my _help? I am shocked." He smiled at her frustrated expression. "I can only imagine what is giving you such frustration… does it have anything to do with a certain jetpack enthusiast?"

Jezzie growled something impolite in his general direction while Rookie shrank away in fear. Memory chuckled. "You cannot find him a gift?"

"It's an impossible task!" Jezzie said, "Nothing fits! It's like potential Christmas presents are scared of him!"

"Have you asked him what he wants?" Memory asked, completely sincere for the first time in three months.

Jezzie stared. "Asked him what he wants?" she snorted. "Like it could be that simple. I asked him, and you know what he said?"

"I never understood why you Americans ask such stupid questions."

"He said that he doesn't want anything! The nerve! He's being difficult on purpose!" Jezzie released her grip on Memory to wave her arms around. He gave her an odd look.

"Or he does not want anything. Did you think of that?"

Jezzie glared. Memory retreated a few beats.

"Of course you thought of that! You are such a bright, beautiful woman that thought of everything!" he said quickly, and she softened a bit, sighing and rubbing her forehead.

"I can't just get him nothing, Memory. He's my partner, and probably my best friend. It's the principle of the thing."

"You will think of something." Memory assured her, and slipped his arm through hers. "So, where are we going?"

"The Lighthouse. They just got in a new shipment of—"

She was cut off as Rookie's cell phone bleated with a techno rendition of Deck the Halls. He coughed modestly and took it from his pants pocket.

"Hello?" he whispered. He blushed and turned his back on Jezzie and Memory, now watching him intently. "Yes, Mom, I'm still out. Yes, I'm with Jezzie. No, no where near that French guy…" Memory frowned and glared. Rookie blushed and looked guiltily at the frost-covered ground. "I'm sorry Mom. I know that it's wrong to lie. I'll be home in a few minutes. Okay, I'll pick up some more gelt. Tell Bubbe not to worry." He looked quickly at Memory before turning completely around and muttering into his phone "I love you too… I said I love you too." He sighed and said as loudly as he dared "I love you too Mom. I've gotta go. Bye." He flipped his phone shut and coughed modestly into his fist. "So…" he drew out the word as long as he dared, ready for the onslaught of baby taunts that he was so used to from The Academy.

But instead, Jezzie perked up "You're Jewish?"

Rookie scuffed his feet. "Um… yeah?"

"That's cool." She said, and waved him off. "Go get home, eat some potato cakes." She frowned at her own words. "That's not exactly politically correct, is it?"

Rookie shook his head. "It's okay. I've heard a lot worse. Anyway… hope you find something for Jetpack." He smiled hopefully, and she smiled back. He said his goodbyes to Memory and took off to the store to get some more chocolate coins for his family.

* * *

**Hooray for political incorrectness! And Memory's weird obsession over a girl he's never _really_ met. Gosh, I'm REALLY tired. See y'all tomorrow for another chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Yay, first review award goes to Honeybee4Eva! All of you other Scrooges need to speak up!**

**Today's holiday-ness was suppplied by my Jewish friend Alex who is very awesome indeed :) And that's one thing I need to rant about... Club Penguin doesn't have any Hanukkah decorations! Oh, the political incorrectness!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own yada yada blah blah. Or Club Penguin.**

* * *

Hanukkah gelt weren't terribly popular on the Island, so he had to go to three stores before finding one that carried them. As he was leaving, a plastic bag full of silver-wrapped chocolates in one hand, he heard someone snickering behind him. Turning slowly with apprehension, he saw a tall boy in a black shirt smiling toothily at him.

"Hey." The guy said, stalking forward until Rookie took a step back, into a wall. "Wanna candy cane?" Rookie shook his head no. The man's smile turned quickly into a sneer. He took one of his hands out of his jeans pockets, clutching a sticky candy cane. "What's a matter? You don't like candy canes?" the man's other hand flashed out and took Rookie's bag. The poor kid was scared out of his mind, too occupied with his own fear to remember any PSA training.

The man was finished looking through the bag, and threw it into the street, coins scattering into the snow. "Oh, so your one of those people." He scoffed. "I should put you down, dog." The man pulled back his candy cane clutching fist, and Rookie felt his legs stiffen up. Sweat beaded his forehead. The man lurched forward to punch, only to find a strong hand wrapped around his wrist. He turned slowly around to look into bright green eyes, glaring over the edge of pitch-black glasses. Black hair hung low over his eyebrows, drawn together in anger.

"Having a merry Christmas, dirt bag?" Justin Guy, known as Jetpack Guy while working, was one of the best PSA agents. And currently, he was not happy. Not his normal brand of not happy either, his angrily not happy. With a grunt and a quick twist, he had the man on his knees, howling as Jetpack crushed his wrist in his hand. Jetpack lifted the man's arm, and forced him up on his feet, lest his shoulder get dislocated. Then he released the man and kicked him hard in the lower back to make him scramble away on hands and knees before he could get painlessly to his feet.

"And have a happy new year!" Justin called after him in his deep voice, scary enough on its own without the fists he was making at his sides. He turned slowly to Rookie, who was only just breaking out of his fear-trance. "You okay, kid?" The Jetpack asked, and his young protégée nodded weakly. Jetpack made no comment, only pushed his glasses farther up his nose to hide his eyes and crouched down, picking up gelt and placing them back into the bag. Rookie joined him in the snow until every single coin had been rescued.

"Thanks." Rookie finally said. Jetpack gave no response other than standing up and handing Rookie the bag of gelt with a blank face. Rookie accepted them with a heavy silence. "I'm sorry that I…" he started to say, before Jetpack cut him off with a hand motion.

"Don't apologize." He said shortly. "Nothing wrong with freezing up your first street fight."

Rookie nods and shuffles his feet awkwardly to fill the silence. Surprisingly, before he can open his mouth to say "So…" Jetpack turned to him and asked, "You're Jewish?"

Rookie nodded, surprised. "Yeah. It's the seventh night of Hanukkah, so we ran out of gelt…" he nodded stiffly to the bag in his hands. He cleared his throat. "Hey, you want to come over?"

Jetpack raises his eyebrows, caught completely off guard. "What?"

Rookie smiled past Justin's discomfort and repeated "Do you want to come over and celebrate with my family?"

Justin rubbed the back of his head, uncomfortable. "I'm… not really a holiday person."

Rookie is cheerfully indifferent to his friend's discomfort. "Not a holiday person? How can someone not be a holiday person on this island? Every single inch of the island has been decorated! Well, it's all Christmas stuff, granted, but the holiday spirit is everywhere! You'd have to go into the woods to get away from it all…" he chattered on while Jetpack thought back to the past Christmas…

* * *

It was December 24, last year, when Jetpack had gotten a call from G. He answered it silently, no hello.

"Justin? Justin, are you there?" festive music was in the background, and Jetpack could barely hear people cheering and singing along. Bells chimed, drums beat, and somewhere close, Memory was begging some girl to let him measure her.

Jetpack didn't answer.

"Come on, son, the party's waiting! Everyone's here!"

Still no response from the agent.

G sighed. "Justin, don't be like that. The whole agency's here. Everyone's wondering where you are."

Silence.

G's voice grew softer as, in the crowded party outside the Town; he walked off a bit to avoid being overheard. "Justin, this is ridiculous. Just because your parent's aren't here to celebrate doesn't mean that you should-"

Jetpack hung up and threw the phone across the single room of his igloo, where it shattered on the wall with a satisfying crunch. Justin turned over in his bed, and buried his face in his pillow, trying to block out the world.

"Bah humbug." He muttered, his parent's picture on his desk watching him coolly. Captured immortally in time, they kneeled around a decorated Christmas tree, under which he was hiding, a boy of six years. His parents had been caught unaware by whoever had taken the picture, so he could clearly see his mother's green eyes and his father's glittering black eyes, shining and reflecting the colored lights of the tree. They stared forward, puzzled looks on their faces, while he stuck his tongue out at the camera. That picture was the last Christmas he had spent with them, before they went missing. The picture marked the last time he'd ever celebrated Christmas.

"Bah asterisking humbug." He repeated, surrounded by the darkness of his empty house.

All alone, the darkness offered no response.

* * *

Rookie stopped rambling on about the decorations for a moment, snapping Justin back into the present. The young boy was waiting patiently for an answer of some sort, leaving Jetpack to take a shot in the dark. Unaware of what he was confirming, he said "… Sure."

Rookie perked up. "Great. My family's igloo is just a few blocks away." He turned and began down the street, leaving Jetpack to mentally smack himself for being roped into more holiday nonsense.

Rookie's igloo was huge, large enough for several families to live in. Rookie caught Justin's appreciative glance, and blushed. "My dad… he owns the ski mountain. Whenever someone buys a sled or rents it out for private parties… he gets a cut. Come on." Running from any more rich-kid stares, he scrambled to the door and tried the knob. It was locked, so he winced and knocked. As soon as his knuckles met dark carved wood, it opened, and a girl with feathery brown hair and freckles answered.

"Tyler!" she squealed, and hugged him. While he laughed and hugged her back, she slipped her hand over the handle of the shopping bag and wrenched it away. She let him go and ran back into the house, yelling about gelt and dreidels. Soon a flock of similar feather-headed children were tumbling around her, all yelling and cheering. Rookie chuckled and came inside, Jetpack following in his wake.

A swinging door a few yards down the hallway opened up, spilling out the scent of fried food and a short old woman with a deep lined face and feathery gray hair held back in a bun. Over her hair she had tied a colorful shawl. When her brown eyes fell on Rookie, she smiled and held out her arms to him.

"Come here, boychik, and give your Bubbe a kiss!" she said, and he dutifully gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. She laughed and patted his back. "Good boy." She said, and looked over his shoulder to see Jetpack hesitating in the entryway, his dark over jacket over one arm. "Who is this strapping young lad?" she asked, her hands on her hips. Rookie smiled encouragingly at Jetpack.

"This is Justin, one of my friends from the PSA. Justin, this is my grandmother, Eliza Rochefield."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rochefield." Justin nodded at her. She glared with the fury of an eighty-year old woman with eighteen grandkids.

"Now, If you're going to spend the night with us, we have to get some things straight." she smiled as Jetpack, rarely afraid of anything, shrunk back in fear. "You call me Bubbe. None of this "Mrs. Rochefield" nonsense. And you have to smile." She pulled up one corner of her mouth with a finger to simulate a smile. "Farshteyn?"

"Uh…"

"That means understand, dear." She said, hands on her hips, waiting. Rookie looked apologetic.

"Yes." Justin said, and gave a poor excuse of a smile, more of a sad half-smirk. But it was enough for Bubbe, who clapped her hands and introduced him to the crowded room of Rochefields. She nodded, satisfied, and dove back into the kitchen to finish cooking. Justin gulped down the lump in his throat as Rookie, who was called Tyler by everyone, introduced him to his mother and father (Retired PSA agents). After that came four aunts and their husbands, all who expressed delight to meet Rookie's PSA teammate and shook his hand with gusto. Of all the cousins, only one, a serious nine-year old introduced as Junior, shook his hand. The sixteen others all chose to squeeze his ribcage in a hug.

After all of the introductions, Justin's head was spinning. He forgot half of them immediately, and the other half, in his mind, where all named Louis. Rookie noticed the lost expression on his face and chose to guide him to the food table, where everything friend from latkes to donuts were waiting for consumption. Justin helped himself to a little bit of everything at Rookie's insistence and sat down while Rookie made his "nice-to-see-you-again" rounds. It took him roughly a half hour before he had circled around back to Jetpack, still sitting off in a corner of the living room with an empty plate in his lap.

"Hey." Rookie greeted him, taking the seat next to him. Jetpack grunted in response, and Rookie poked his arm. "Remember the rules." He warned, and, as if on cue, Bubbe poked her gray head around the corner, glaring in his direction until Jetpack suffered through a smile for a full minute. She nodded, satisfied, before popping back out again.

"… I don't get it." Rookie said after a long pause. Jetpack gave him a cool look as a response, inviting him to continue. "It's just… why you don't like holidays. You get to celebrate with your family, people you haven't seen in a year. Don't you have any relatives that visit?"

"No." Jetpack said shortly, a verbal equivalent to slapping Rookie upside the head. The young agent bowed his head, suddenly remembering years of gossip surrounding his friend.

"Right." Rookie coughed. "But… sometimes friends are like family." He added uselessly.

"Right." Jetpack repeated. "Friends. Like…" as far as he knew, his only friend was G, who annoyed him to no end.

"Like me." The simple way that Rookie said it made Jetpack feel like a complete asterisk. "Or Memory." Rookie noticed the nauseated look on Jetpack's face and backtracked. "Or not Memory. Surely _Jezzie_ is your friend."

Jetpack hated how he had to sit back and think about that. Jezzie. He thought of her as his partner, no question. Sometimes annoying with her cheeriness or how she questioned authority. Most of the time, though, she was the person that he would choose to spend time with. So… that made her his friend. He nodded, and Rookie looked satisfied.

"You know…" Rookie cleared his throat, alerting Jetpack to the fact that he was about to encroach on a sensitive subject. "… She really wants you to go to the party. She's been hunting for your gift for ages."

"I told her I didn't want anything."

"And you really thought that she would listen to you?"

Jetpack found that he had no response other than to laugh. Rookie's family had begun to congregate around the simplistic silver menorah, and Rookie went to join them. Jetpack lagged towards the back, not entirely comfortable or aware of the proceedings. While they began praying and lighting candles, he thought back to what Rookie had said, about Jezzie trying to find him a gift.

Well, if Jezzie wanted him to go to the party, then he'd go. For her.

* * *

**Fact of the day: Jetpack is awesome, despite his emotional issues. And some people just don't like candy canes. It's a shame.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Nothing to add here. Except that nothing is as it seems...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything.**

* * *

Jezzie stalked around her room in the PSA HQ. It was a small room, but she had managed to fill it with everything from her old igloo, a cluttered desk, a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a ratty old couch covered in a faded quilt. Her black puffle, Rockafellow, glared up at his mistress from his graying white puffle bed, berating her silently for disturbing his sleep. She growled back, and he sniffed haughtily, turning his back on her, tucking himself away to sleep.

"Come on, Rocky, its Christmas Eve, and I don't have a gift!" she groaned, and his squeaky response was the puffle equivalent of "it's not _my _problem".

"Well, you're no help." She groaned and sat down on her couch, burying her head in her hands. She was minutes from going down to the party, all ready dressed in her old dark green dress, sewn together from even older curtains. The sash, however, was new, cinched to one side with a sprig of mistletoe. Her dirty blonde hair had been forced by her friend Mandy into a loose bun, held in place with a sparkly red headband. Her falling apart tennis shoes had been re-laced with green and red shoe ties for the occasion.

She tilted her head back and assured herself that it would all be okay. She had a card for him, and she could easily grab something that caught her eye as she helped the PSA task force get the Town ready. She gathered up Rookie's and Memory's gifts, and headed downstairs.

On the way down, her headband slipped, covering her eyes. Asterisking to herself, she stumbled down the last few steps, missed one, and fell.

She landed on something that was very familiar, that smelled strongly of mothballs. Hands were taking her pile of gifts from her, freeing her hands to clear her eyes. What she saw was Memory, dressed in a faded Santa Claus costume. "What is your…" his eyes bugged out as he took in her attire. "… Rush?" he finished, and she mimed slapping him, but didn't. It _was _the holidays, after all. Instead she settled for a glare and re-claimed her packages.

Memory followed her down the hallway that led to the Sports Shop exit. They came out one at a time, after making sure that no one was around. No one was, the Ski Town basically deserted for the Town or Plaza. They started on the long walk to the Town.

"Nice costume." Jezzie said, eyeing him up and down. "A little… aged, isn't it?"

Memory smiled and ran his hands across the threadbare faux fur on the lapel of his vermillion coat. "Yes, but it is definitely recognizable, no?"

Jezzie chuckled. "Hoping to have someone remember you?"

Memory's smug smile told all. Jezzie chose then to shut up about going over to Mandy's house to ask for help on her hair… and the costume she had found tucked away at the back of her friend's closet.

They had reached the Town by now, and G was seen busily setting up his light show station, where he could control the Christmas lights all around the square. Jezzie remembered one year, when he had synchronized them all to the beat of the Christmas carol DJ Candace had pouring from the Night Club.

This year, he was rambling about how his TreeLights 5,000 would revolutionize the tree lighting process, turning it from a chore to a show. He flipped a large red switch, and his test tree merrily burst into flames.

Jezzie leaned towards a shocked Memory and whispered "Does the 5,000 mean that he set 4,999 trees on fire to get to this point?"

Memory responded that "It is best not to question these things."

Jezzie shook her head and brought her presents into the Coffee Shop, and she set them down on what she claimed as her table. She looked around in the twilight air, and tugged on Memory's sleeve. "Where's Justin?"

Memory shrugged. "Probably he is moping around in his room. He never comes to these parties."

"What?"

"I thought you knew."

Jezzie let out a frustrated noise and stalked back to the PSA, and knocked very loudly on Jetpack Guy's door, screaming his name at the top of her voice.

"Looking for someone?" a familiar deep voice asked from behind her, his amusement tangible. She turned slowly to see Jetpack Guy leaning against the wall behind her. He had abandoned his usual red sweatshirt for a plain red t-shirt, under a black suit coat, the sleeves rolled up.

Jezzie stomped her foot and pointed. "You're going to the Christmas Party."

Beneath his sunglasses, his eyes looked around in confusion. "Uh… yes? I was already on my way, when I heard someone attacking a door…" his chin tilted as he looked her up and down. "I wish I could say that I'm surprised."

She huffed and took one of his armfuls of presents and led the way back to the Town. When she walked in front of him into the Coffee Shop, every PSA jaw dropped at the sight of Jetpack Guy… actually _celebrating_ with the rest of the Island. While she was gone, Rookie had appeared, talking over the table with Memory, who was shaking a small square box rapidly.

"Is it a horseshoe?" he was asking as they approached. Rookie smiled smugly and shook his head. Memory growled and shook harder, listening for sounds.

"Is it a… cell phone?" he asked, and Rookie shook his head. Memory frowned and shook it so hard that the delicate paper around his fingers began to tear. At this point, Rookie had exclaimed and rescued his abused gift from Memory's destructive clutches.

They both looked up at the sound of Jezzie's heels approaching and saw Jetpack standing there. Memory gaped and clutched at his chest, where his heart had missed a beat. Rookie had a knowing and happy smile on his face, and quickly used his moment of euphoria to proudly had Jetpack his gift.

The agent look surprised, but quickly recovered and surrendered the large box in his hands to the young Rookie, who tore into the paper with excitement. Jetpack unwrapped his gift and found a simple gold trophy with "Best Teacher" engraved on the base. Far more emotional than he had been in years, Jetpack gave his rookie a hug. After recovering from the initial shock, Rookie hugged him back, while Jezzie and Memory shared shocked looks.

Jetpack made up for his lapse of stoic by gruffly snapping at Rookie to "Open his gift already."

Rookie complied, and squealed like a little girl when he saw that Jetpack had given him his own jetpack. He jumped around for a few minutes before calming down enough to give Jezzie her gift- a hand-knit yellow scarf that she promptly wound around her neck. She gave Rookie his gift, a gold coin held in place by a small U magnet, a reminder of their first mission together. He promptly hugged her and attached the bauble to his key chain.

Memory looked at her expectantly, while she glanced over his shoulder. She smiled to something behind him and handed over his gift. He tore it open like a rapid weasel, and was surprised to find a brick with a post-it note attached. At Rookie's prodding, he read it aloud.

"Dear Annoying French Guy." He read, and raised a cynical eyebrow at Jezzie. "In order to stop your Christmas true love angst, I have a special gift for you. No refunds. Look behind you." He gave her and odd look before turning around to see a petite girl in an old Christmas tree costume standing there. She waved at him shyly, and he numbly waved back before turning around.

"It is her." He breathed, panting. "It is really her."

Jezzie nodded.

"I love you. Not as much as her. But I really do. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!" he almost vaulted the table to hug her for a fraction of a moment before chasing after no other than Jezzie's friend Mandy.

Rookie turned to her with a confused look. "You know her?"

Jezzie nodded once again. "She's my friend Mandy. You see…" she dove into the story of her holiday preparations.

* * *

"Thanks for the help, Mandy." Jezzie tilted her head to get a better view of the updo that her friend had just worked her sun-fried split ends into.

"No problem, sweetheart." Mandy talked very fast, and Jezzie could just barely pick out what she was saying. "Hey, you know what would look great? I think I have this red headband floating around the back of my closet. Can you go check? I think it might be in my costume trunk?"

"Okay." Jezzie got up while Mandy worked around her kitchen, preparing drinks. Inside her friend's huge closet, she found the aforementioned headband and something very surprising. "Uh… Mandy!"

"Yeah?"

"What's with this old tree costume?"

"Oh, that old thing?" Mandy poked her head into the closet to see the costume that Jezzie was studying. "I wore it to the Christmas party a few years back. Some cute guy spilled egg nog all over it."

Jezzie smiled. "You mind doing me a favor?"

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"I can't believe it." Rookie laughed in disbelief, and craned his neck to search the growing crowd for Memory and his true love. "I can't believe you really found her."

Jetpack sat there with a lost expression on his face. "I'm sure that I don't want to know what's going on."

"Yeah, it's probably for the best."

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**Poor Jetpack, no one ever tells him anything :) and I feel obligated to warn you that Memory's not getting his Christmas gift that easily...**

**Review please, or I will be very sad and cry :( And you don't want that do you?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah... still lookin for those secret reviewers... unless they don't like the story, which I understand. (That was guilt, be the way)**

**AN: Memory is probably one of my favorite characters to mess with :) mostly cause he's just so full of himself, and knocking him off of his pedestal is always entertaining :) And here it is! The dreaded drinking reference! Hide the children! But it something that they would say... Anyway! Back to whatever the point here was. I apologize beforehand for the fluffiness of this chapter. Had to be done, I'm afraid.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own CP.**

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Without Memory there, they decided to wait for the rest of the gifts, a reprieve that Jezzie accepted happily. As much as she intended to run off and find a last-minute gift, between meeting Robinson and being introduced to his wife, dancing with her friends, and helping G put out flaming Christmas trees, she couldn't find a spare moment. She struggled to get away after a few hours, and ran into Memory, missing his Santa beard and looking very harassed.

"Jezzie- thank the Moderator." He grabbed her arms and held her close, until her face was inches from his. "I need a refund for my gift."

Jezzie chuckled and tried to squirm away. "You read the card. No refunds."

Memory's hold tightened, and he pulled her even closer. "But she is psychotic! I do not remember her being so… so… utterly insane! She is talking children, Jezzie! CHILDREN! I am not ready for a commitment like this!" he released her and began gnawing on his fingernails. His eyes were bloodshot and his usually carefully spiked hair was flat and tangled.

Jezzie sighed and shook her head. "Look, I don't have the time for this. Four years ago, she was on anti-psychotic meds. Now that she's off them, it's your problem. I've got to go." She dodged him while he shrieked after her to come back and face him. His cries were cut off as Mandy tackled him in a hug, calling him "Woobie-Bearie".

Jezzie shut herself into a side-room, thankfully empty. She leaned against the wood of the door and sighed, enjoying the quiet. A quiet that was soon disrupted by the clinking of glass.

"This hiding place," Justin said from where he was sitting, surrounded by empty cream sodas. "Is taken."

Jezzie put one hand on her hip and surveyed the damage: One Jetpack, minus the sunglasses, surrounded by at least twenty empty bottles of soda. About ten more were piled on his right. Before her eyes, he defiantly took a heavy swig from his current bottle.

Jezzie sighed and went over to where he was sitting, sandwiched between two low cabinets. She looked down at him, and his tired, weary expression. "You know," she eventually decided on saying, "That you can't get drunk off of cream soda."

He took another deep swig, leaving one more bottle empty. He placed it beside him with mechanical precision, and uncapped another. "I can try." He said, and took a big gulp.

Jezzie looked to the shut door, behind which Memory was no doubt being assaulted, and then back to her partner. Uninvited, she sat down next to him and claimed a bottle.

They were silent for a few moments.

"… tough night?" Jezzie finally said.

Jetpack Guy nodded. "I just… haven't done this in a while." He laughed darkly. "A little overwhelming, you know?"

Jezzie nodded in an understanding manner, and pursed her lips, looking into the neck of her bottle. "Yeah. Look, Justin…" he turned towards her, and she refused to meet her gaze. "I... didn't get you anything."

Jetpack looked at her hard for a few moments, looked through slitted green eyes at how she bent her head, at how her brown eyes sparkled with tears, and the way she pressed her lips together. Finally, he spoke.

"I didn't want anything."

Jezzie groaned in frustration. "I know! But that doesn't excuse me from getting you one! That's not how it works." She stood and began pacing, with Jetpack still watching her from the floor.

"Okay then." Jetpack muttered, and stood up, following her. "Jezzie, I haven't been to a Christmas party since the day my parents went missing. I just… didn't see the need to. No one asked me to come because they wanted me too. G sometimes tried, but it was just because he didn't want me being alone." She had stopped pacing by then, and he came up to stand next to her, talking past her to the door, not wanting to meet her eyes. "You are the first person in years that ever cared about me on Christmas."

"Besides G." Jezzie whispered.

"G doesn't count." Justin agreed. "Jezzie, that's one of the best gifts I've ever been given."

Jezzie smiled to herself. She heard Justin shakily inhale and exhale. There was a crinkling of paper as he took something from his pocket.

"Here." He said, and handed a simple envelope to her. Raising an eyebrow, she opened it and pulled out the water stained and crinkled photo from within.

Her eyes swam with tears and she bit back a sob. "Jetpack…" she whispered past the lump in her throat and covered her mouth with her hand.

"I… hijacked the Aqua Grabber for a few hours." He explained, and, based on his expertise with machines, she didn't doubt him.

Jezzie sniffed and failed to hold back tears as a few leaked out from under her eyelashes. "I thought you might…" Justin's voice wavered a bit. "You don't like it?" he asked nervously.

Jezzie shook her head. "Justin… it's perfect. Thank you." She turned to him, but could barely see him through the haze of unshed tears still clinging to her lashes. There was a small pressure of heat on her cheek as he kissed her.

"Merry Christmas, Jezzie." He whispered, and left the room, giving her time alone with herself.

Once he was gone, she broke down and cried, fingers brushing against the last photo of her parents, taken the day that they left for their last cruise. "Merry Christmas, Justin." She whispered, and kissed the photo. "I love you, Mom, Dad. Merry… Christmas." She tucked the photo away and cleaned her face of tears before going back to the party.

Inside, she located Memory, clinging to the chandelier like a frightened cat. Jetpack was next to a slightly smoking Rookie, patting him sympathetically on the back while they watched G tote away the smoking remains of Rookie's first jetpack. A sizable hole in the wall marked where it had gone down. Mandy was hopping around like a grasshopper, looking for her "true love". Robinson and his wife, a small woman with gentle features and a homely look, were slow-dancing on the floor. Jezzie leaned against the door frame and took it all in happily.

Her family. Her perfectly strange PSA family, all together for what was shaping up to be the best Christmas ever.

She wouldn't trade it for anything.

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**No! It's not the end! I've still got a good chapter or two to torture you guys with! REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Okay. Short chapter. And there were only five, not six, like I had originally thought. Oh well.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. And Mod, do I love writing the interactions between Jetpack and Memory :)**

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She made her way over to Rookie and Jetpack Guy, and could just barely overhear him reassuring his protégée that it was no big deal, that everyone was bound to crash eventually.

"… sometimes it's just best to get it out of the way, kid." Jetpack finished saying, and Rookie nodded sadly. His down look perked up slightly when a wrapped gift dropped on his head from above. As one, the three members of Squad Delta looked up and saw Memory, still tangled in the light fixture, gesturing wildly for him to open it. While he had their attention, he dropped two similar gifts, one with an extra attached to it with ribbon.

"Jezzie." He mouthed while pointing at it.

Thinking it beyond their comprehension to wonder to his actions, they all obediently opened their gifts, coming up with PSA Universal Translators. Jezzie, however, had an extra gift, a CD of her favorite band. When her questioning look reached the hidden agent, he simply mouthed, coupled by extra movements, "You. My. Favorite."

Rookie glared, used to being the "favorite" but was nonetheless pleased with the translator.

Smiling up at Memory, Jezzie took the liberty to pick up Rookie's gift and throw it upwards. Memory tore it open like a crazed jackal, raining down scraps of paper. When he saw the yet-be-released special edition of the most popular band on the Island, he yelped and tumbled from the ceiling in joy, landing on an unsuspecting Jetpack, who loudly cursed and pushed his teammate off.

"Woobie-Bearie!" Mandy shouted, trying to get to him through the crowd.

"." Memory said in a rushed blur and got up to run off. Jetpack, not to be left sprawled on the floor without his comeuppance, sprang to his feet and grabbed the back of Memory's Santa suit.

"Memory." He growled, and took another crumpled envelope from his pocket, almost shoving up Memory's nose. "Read." He snapped.

Memory took the letter in trembling hands and looked at where Mandy, like a pine-needle covered shark, was getting closer and closer. "As much as I like your emo poems, Jetpack, I do not think that now is the time…"

"Shut up and read." Justin repeated, strengthening his hold on his victim. Memory tore open the letter and scanned it for a moment.

"Dear Pain in My Asterisk." He started, and drew his eyebrows together and Jetpack and Jezzie. "Is starting with my name so hard for you two?"

Jetpack's expression and Mandy's speedy approach prompted him to look back to the paper. "I realize that I am unnecessarily aggressive to you and would like to apologize for all of the times that I have caused you discomfort over the past year. I would like to start fresh." As he finished reading this sentence, Jetpack's hold released so that he could better crack his knuckles.

"Hear that, asterisk?" Justin leered. "Fresh slate. I have a lot of filling in to do."

Memory gulped and was set upon by his "friend" and "girlfriend", both with very different outcomes in mind. In his rush to escape, he knocked Rookie into his girlfriend, and they both fell under a shadow of mistletoe. The crowd around them cheered until Rookie, blushing so mad that his feathery hair almost set on fire, kissed her cheek. G finally noticed the blur of motion that was Memory and his assailants struggling across the dance floor, and tried to break it up, failing as Jetpack pulled back his arm for a punch and accidentally hit him. Jetpack shouted an apology while Memory shouted something in French, do doubt a curse. G stumbled back, and would have fallen if his old friend Robinson hadn't caught him under the arms, letting loose his deep roar of a laugh.

Jezzie sat down at her table and watched the mayhem between sips of egg nog, her amusement clearly showing.

Yeah, she wouldn't trade this moment for anything.

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**Just to make sure that the ending wasn't _too_ corny, I had to add a tad bit of holiday mayhem. I'll probably end up joining this chapter and the one before it. But whatever. Hope you enjoyed :) Now you must review, or Jetpack will come to beat you up, and Memory will drop presents on your head. HEAVY presents.**


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